


It's Just A Cold

by Magikenz



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7956082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magikenz/pseuds/Magikenz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feyre is sick with a cold...and also pregnant. Rhys is very worried about his two girls. Cuteness ensues. </p><p>All credit for the characters goes to Sarah J Maas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Just A Cold

I've never seen Rhys this worried over something so trivial. 

"Babe," I croak. "It's just a cold." 

He ignores me, pacing back and forth in our room. His hands are folded, the fingertips leaning against the end of his nose. His wings wobble a bit as he trudges back and forth. "We need a doctor," he mumbles. 

I roll my eyes. "We do not. Come back to bed." I sit up a little more and the blanket falls, revealing my swollen abdomen. I wince. 

As soon as his gaze lands on the baby bump, his violet eyes widen. He disappears from the room immediately. 

I lean back against the pillows, sighing loudly though my nose. I let my crossed arms rest on the bump. Ever since I told him that I was pregnant he's been treating me so gently. Nothing like Tamlin used to do, obviously, but it is getting annoying. I know that he's just excited to have a child at last. He had been over the moon when I told him that it was a girl, but I don't know if I can take it much longer. 

A knock at the door sends me rising from the bed and grabbing my silk robe from where it hangs on the bed post. Mor stands outside, golden hair mussed from sleep...or maybe a night out. She is still wearing deep red lipstick. She blinks sleepily, "I was told to come sit with you until Rhys comes back with the doctor." 

I open my mouth to tell her to leave, but she simply bustles in. 

"Don't bother," she says. Two chairs appear before the large obsidian fireplace. 

I point my finger at the grate and a crackling fire blazes forth. Mor slumps into one of the chairs. 

"Has he ever been like this," I ask after a minute of silence. 

She grins slightly. "Worried? Yes. About you? Almost all of the time." 

I feel a blush rise in my cheeks. "He shouldn't worry. He knows I can take care of myself." 

"He means well," she says. "He just wants his little bat to be okay." 

We haven't discussed baby names yet. I was thinking about Nesta, or maybe we'll name her after Rhys's mother. My nose drips onto my nightgown, making a small dark spot on the white cotton. I rub my lower back, wincing at the pain. 

"She's heavy?" 

"Very." I sigh. "Sometimes I wish I wasn't pregnant." 

Mor laughs, "Pregnancy does not suit you." She must be remembering the day I finally stopped training. I had been stubborn, and Rhys had supported me against Cassian's judgement. But eventually the bump swelled until I couldn't see my feet any longer. Cassian helped me hang my shield in the armory, and I had taken to strategizing in the tower with Azriel. 

"I never thought it would."

Actually, I never thought I would be alive to bear Rhy's children. Before the last battle of the War, I had thought that I would die. Or that Rhys would die. I shuddered at the vision, and then shuddered at what actually had happened.

The memory of Nesta's screams drowned out the crackling of the fire for a few seconds, and I was suddenly back on that field watching as Nesta took ash arrows for Elaine. The smell of burning flesh and tangy magic fills my nose, the sounds of metal clanging and people dying fills my ears, and I have to watch my sister die in front of me. I have to watch Elaine cry for her, and then I have to drag her away from the body before she gets shot too. 

I feel a hand on my upper arm, and wrench it away. Mor blinks at me understandingly as I realize where I am. 

"It's over," she whispers. 

I sniffle before my nose can drip again. "I know." 

"We all have those moments. You just have to remember." 

My worries about having a child blindside me. "I'm afraid that I'll do that when  _she_ comes." I pat my belly. 

Mor nods. "I know. But we'll all be here for you. To help, to do whatever you need---" 

She's cut off as the bedroom door is thrown open and Rhys strides in with the doctor in tow. The Fae doctor is a man with a shock of white hair, hooded brown eyes, and deep wrinkles like a bulldog. Everyone says that he's half gnome because of the wrinkles and his short stature. But he fought well in the war, healing the wounded and defending the hospitals. 

"Where's my patient," he asks. He blinks at me blearily. 

"Honestly, cousin, she's fine." Mor stands, brushing her night gown off. The silk shines in the light of the fire as she begins to winnow. "Night, Feyre." 

Rhys's brow contorts as he looks me over, his eyes pausing on my stomach. 

The doctor kneels beside my chair, putting a pointed object in my nose and ears. He looks carefully in my eyes and feels my heartbeat. "All she needs is rest," he reports. "Do you have headaches?" 

I nod, "Just since the baby came." 

He pulls an herbal concoction out of his leather satchel and presses it in my hands. The faded label reads: For Pregnancy Head Pain. Then he stands, claps Rhys on the shoulder, and winnows away. 

I cross my arms over my chest, "I told you." 

Rhys dissmisses me. "We had to be sure." 

I roll my eyes at him, walking to the bed and slowly easing myself in.

Rhys joins me. He wraps us in his arms and wings, pulling my lethargic body to him. "I love you," he says carefully. 

"I know," I sigh. "But Rhys, you're going to have to calm down. This baby will be fine." I softly stroke the membrane of his wing, sending warmth down the bond. "We're safe, she's safe." 

He kisses my neck in response. 

"I'll tell you if something bad is happening." I roll carefully to face him, and he rests his forehead on mine. "You still trust me right?" 

"Of course I do." 

"Good." I give him a kiss. "Goodnight." 

He purrs, "Goodnight, Feyre darling." 


End file.
